


I Can Fix That

by TheLilacPilgrim



Category: Colbert Report FPF, Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: Bondage, Desk Sex, Dominance, Established Relationship, M/M, Pundit Kink Meme, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLilacPilgrim/pseuds/TheLilacPilgrim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson Cooper made the mistake of letting the world know he'd never been spanked. His not-lover decided right then and there that he should correct this injustice.</p>
<p>Written in response to <a href="http://punditkink.dreamwidth.org/682.html?thread=45994#cmt45994">this prompt</a> over at the Pundit Kink Meme on dreamwidth. Posted here because I made some mistakes in the text which bugged me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Fix That

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these guys or know them and nor am I either of them. I don't work for them etc and all of this is fictional. i don't believe for a second that it happened or is going to happen. Any resemblance to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

He thinks that he probably should have gone home right away, he'd been so very tired after finishing his show, but then this wouldn't be happening and Anderson was quite sure that would have been a terrible shame.  
  
Apparently, upon hearing that the silver fox had never been spanked as a child, Stephen had bravely taken it upon himself to pack a bag full of paddles and cuffs, race to the studio  _on foot_  and wait in Anderson's office with the biggest grin on his face. When the anchor had walked in, the bespectacled gentleman had been caressing a beautifully decorated paddle, Anderson's desk cleared and a velvet-y throw lain out neatly over it. The anchor hadn't questioned Stephen's expensive tastes, having heard enough gloating monologues about how much money he had squirreled away to splurge on such frivolities.  
  
To his credit, Anderson had given a fair two-minute fight before allowing Stephen to rip his clothes off and drape him artfully over the desk, silk ropes binding his wrists together ever so luxuriously. Only Stephen Colbert would have such fine bondage gear ready to grab for such, as he'd called it not more than five minutes ago, "emergencies". And that thought alone excites him more than anything else in the world at this moment; the idea that Stephen, such a sexual being, someone so desperate to please and to be pleased, is here, with him, the look in his eyes hungry and needy and loving and giving all at once.  
  
It's only now as Stephen gently presses the cool, smooth paddle to his naked backside that the journalist realises where he still is, and for the slightest fraction of a second, he hesitates, his breath hitching in his throat. As he opens his mouth to point it out, however, it turns out that there was no such moment of reluctance in the showman's mind.  
  
It sounds much worse than it actually feels, a harsh, reverberating smack to his left buttock that he's sure his staff would have heard but it's not like they can take it back now. They can't take it back any more than Andy can take back the shocked, not-exactly-displeased moan that had followed it. So instead, the silver fox clenches his hands into fists and attempts to settle, though the velvet under his tense belly is bunched up and moves with him like he's sliding on butter, and when Stephen rubs a warm hand over the site of the first smack, Anderson's face reddens, his arousal brushing against the hanging velvet.  
  
"See, Andy?" he coos soothingly, though there's a slight growl to his voice like that of a wolf intimidating - or at least attempting to intimidate - its prey. "It's not so bad."  
  
Another smack to the opposite side as though to prove his point, much harder than the last. Anderson almost bites through his bottom lip at the next strike, so soon after the last and even harder. Soft lips are pressed sweetly against the flushed skin, and a gentle thumb grazes over it.   
  
"And after the pain," Stephen murmurs happily, fingertips pressing into the reporter's hip. "You get kisses!"  
  
Comforting, well-moisturised hands caress him so softly, and with them he can swear that he can feel something much warmer and harder pressing into his flesh. He holds back a giggle, but it seems that his self-appointed master has only just noticed it, too, and as though he knows what the journalist is thinking he snatches up his paddle and brings it down hard across his backside. Anderson only laughs, giggling out an "Owww,  _Stephen_ !" as the velvet bunches up beneath his hips.  
  
"It's not -" smack "- that kind -" smack "- of spanking!" Stephen huffs, every smack causing the pale form beneath him to arch and moan and jolt and rub his stupid cock against his expensive throw, which in turn only causes his own rising problem to become harder. Growling and red-faced, Stephen delicately removes his glasses and places them neatly on a shelf. "Well. Now it is. Someone needs to put you in your place, Anderson Cooper."  
  
Staring down at his own wrists, Andy hears the sound of unzipping and bites his lip, unable to suppress a grin. There's hesitation and excitement and his heart is beating wildly in his chest as he feels wetness and desperate heat and the cool, smooth paddle resting ominously on his hip.  
  
"Oh dear," he purrs, parting his thighs ever so slightly as the paddle is raised off of his skin. "Have I been  _bad_ , Stephen? Do you really have to punish me?"  
  
This strike is much worse than the last and it's clear that Stephen means business. Anderson doesn't mind in the slightest, suddenly not caring how much noise he makes in his painfully un-soundproofed office. Stephen's chest is pressed against his back and his eyes flutter closed as the older man snarls into his ear; "You're a very, very bad boy with a lot of spanking to catch up on."  
  
For a moment, Andy wonders if the door is locked, but as the paddle slaps hard against the other hip and Stephen slams into him with a growl, tearing an undignified yelp from the silver fox, somehow it stops being important and he pushes back into every thrust and smack and scratch, savouring every little moan and whimper his surprise lover makes. For Stephen, these little accidental sounds are as close to a declaration of love as Anderson is ever going to hear, and though he'll never admit it out loud and definitely never to the man himself, these are the moments he longs for.  
  
One last half-hearted spanking tips him over the edge, and he tightens around the older man, groaning into his restraints as he makes a mess of the nice golden throw. Stephen follows not long after, hips slamming into Anderson's as though he's not planning on stopping, at least until he's drilled right through him. Even in the pleasure-clouded haze of his mind, Andy silently wonders if he should ask the man if he's drilling for oil back there, deciding not to as his jaw refuses to work and it's a pretty tasteless joke in the first place.  
  
Even when both men are completely spent, the older doesn't pull out, resting panting on the younger's back, fumbling with the rope in order to set him free. As though he's forgotten who he's with, he peppers Andy's shoulders with tiny affectionate kisses. Andy doesn't care to remind him and he smiles, hanging limply over either side of the desk.  
  
The silence is beautiful. Andy wishes their relationship was always like this; soft, gentle kisses, unspoken communication, breaths of love and admiration and passionate lovemaking... instead of pretending that neither man is aware that they're even in a relationship. Instead of pretending that each meeting comes by chance or through the generosity of Stephen's bank account. But Stephen can't make that commitment, and Anderson can't bring himself to walk away.  
  
Stephen coughs unceremoniously, and the beautiful silence shatters. Sniffing huffily, he whispers into Andy's ear. "Don't think you're done yet, pretty boy," he grumbles, the hand that had been stroking his hip so lovingly once again gripping him harshly. Anderson's now free hand grasps it, almost pleading with him, just tonight, please let this last...  
  
But Stephen stands up and yanks at the velvet, prompting the younger man to rise from the table, hips and backside burning, his chest and belly cold. It seems as though the older man might leave him like this as he reaches for his glasses and pushes them onto his scowling face, but as he looks Anderson over, he turns the velvet around and wraps him in it, warm and soft, the sticky part turned away from them both. Hesitantly, Stephen presses a kiss to Anderson's temple and holds him close. He's nuzzled into his neck, the closeness and darkness a shield to his own thoughts and feelings.  
  
"I think that's enough for tonight, though," he murmurs, and his tone is softer, almost apologetic. Anderson says nothing at all, drinking in the sounds and the sights and the feels and smells and the light mirage of kisses that Stephen will pretend never happened and Andy will remember in private, and both hearts will ache... but now isn't the time for those thoughts. Now is the time for silence and hugs bathed in moonlight, and the fleetingly blissful notion that Stephen was the first to spank him and just how ready each man was.


End file.
